The Gray
by Kalquessa
Summary: SG1 are in the familiar position of encountering a civilization where technology masquerades as magic. They're in for a surprise when they attempt to find out who is hiding the technology and why. Season 1 teamfic, Sam POV. Season 1.


Written for Kathryn Anderson's Finish-a-thon. Props to Kathryn and also to my amazing betas Aurora and Kate. Any deficiencies in this fic are a result of the fact that I didn't always listen to them.

** Spoilers: ** Set in early Season 1, no spoilers to speak of.

The Gray

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Sam stepped through the event horizon, blinked and said "Wow."

Beside her, Daniel simply smiled. "Told you."

The MALP telemetry from P3X-287 had given the impression of a large cave, the walls of which were heavily frescoed, but it had failed to convey the immense size of the cavern housing the Gate. It had also failed to do justice to the detail and number of the frescoes, which stretched up the cavern's walls to the height of three or four stories.

"Must have a lot of time on their hands," observed Colonel O'Neill, smiling at the approaching welcome party, which seemed to consist of short, middle-aged men and women wearing colorful versions of the draped garments that Daniel called chitons. (During the mission briefing, there had been some heated discussion resulting from Colonel O'Neill's use of the term "toga" and while Sam sympathized with Daniel's position, she had been forced, under direct questioning, to admit that no, sir, she couldn't tell the difference, either.)

"Welcome, honored guests!" the stout man leading the party exclaimed. "I am called Bodhus. It is a privilege to welcome you to our world." He accompanied his welcome with a wide smile and an expansive gesture that fluttered the edge of his purple chiton.

"Bodhus, yes." Daniel advanced to meet the small assembly, "We're pleased to meet you. This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, Captain Samantha Carter, Teal'c," he indicated each of them in turn. "And I am Doctor Daniel Jackson; we spoke over the radio earlier."

"Indeed we did!" Bodhus agreed, gesturing toward the MALP, where it had stopped in the middle of the cavern. "Your people command a truly astonishing magic to send one's voice where one's self is not."

"Oh, it's not magic," Sam replied, coming up behind Daniel while Teal'c and the Colonel held back a few paces. "It's simply a matter of being able to send and receive various wave patterns that can--"

"Certainly," the woman beside Bodhus spoke sharply, "all magic seems a simple matter to those who have mastered it." She frowned. "But not all are capable of such mastery." She was shorter even than Bodhus, coming up just past Sam's elbow and she wore a length of her chiton looped over her head in a hood. Sam noted that she wore gray rather than the bright colors favored by the others.

Bodhus smiled at Sam and made a conciliatory gesture. "Hariteia represents the Accepted, our most learned and gifted elite." He smiled at the woman, who did not return his good humor, the turned back to Sam. "Perhaps you are an Accepted on your own world?" When Sam just looked vaguely baffled, he added, "You understand the secrets of your world's magic, yes?"

Before Sam could decide how to answer, Daniel was answering for her. "Captain Carter possesses a great deal of understanding of how our technology--what you would call magic--functions. But it's not necessary to _understand_ technology in order to _use_ it; I used the radio on our probe to speak to you through the wormhole, though I don't fully understand how it works."

Bodhus's smile broadened further. "Here it is so, also." He gestured widely at the cavern's distant ceiling, where several clusters of lights hung suspended, illuminating the frescoes on the walls. "Only the Accepted know the mysteries that give us our great lamps, yet all may read our history by their light."

"Speaking of your history..." Daniel began at once, and Sam smiled politely. He had talked of nothing but frescoes since seeing the MALP telemetry, so it didn't surprise Sam that he took this opportunity to begin firing off questions about the cavern, the designs, the paint, the symbolism, without appearing to give much thought to the implications of the initial exchange; Sam couldn't help feeling a little uneasy. She looked back at the woman Bodhus had called Hariteia and found the small woman returning her gaze coolly, her expression unreadable.

Daniel and Bodhus began moving toward the nearest cavern wall and at a nod from the Colonel, Teal'c followed, looking stoic--or possibly bored; after only a few months on the same team as the Jaffa, Sam found it difficult to tell. With a last glance at Hariteia, who had turned to speak to another member of the greeting party, Sam moved back to stand beside Colonel O'Neill.

"Captain?" The Colonel prompted, reading her uneasiness before she had spoken a word.

"I'm not sure, sir," she said after a moment, pursing her lips. "The preliminary energy readings indicated a pretty decent amount of technology, and they obviously have some kind of power source." She nodded at the lights high above. "But Bodhus seemed to think that both the lights and the MALP were a type of magic. And when I tried to explain radio waves, that woman in gray, Hariteia, cut me off in a hurry." Sam turned to look for the other woman again and found that she had been joined by a man who had not been a part of the original assembly. He wore hooded gray, as well, and they were speaking quiety to each other, looking from Teal'c and Daniel (still talking with a happily nodding Bodhus) to Sam and the Colonel.

"So the villagers are hiding something." Colonel O'Neill gave a small sigh of annoyance and gazed up at the lights overhead, then across at the small, gray-clad pair still conferring with one another. "Well, Daniel will be occupied for a while, if his All Frescoes All The Time presentation at the briefing was any indication. Why don't you..." he waved a hand vaguely, apparently waiting for her to fill in the rest of the order herself.

"Collect some mineral samples and take some more detailed energy readings?" Sam supplied.

"Yes." The Colonel nodded soberly, then added with a generous smile, "Collect. Read. Have fun. I'll be..." he seemed to be searching for a way to say 'standing around looking bored' without actually saying it. He finished half-heartedly with "...over there," and strolled away in the direction he had indicated. Sam grinned at his back and started toward the MALP to retrieve her sample kit.

"Captain Carter." A small woman in an orange chiton approached her, smiling. "I am called Menandi; I serve with Bodhus in the House of Governors. Your friend requested that Bodhus send someone to assist you and answer any questions you might have." She inclined her head toward Daniel, who was evidently fascinated by a section of fresco not too far away. "He said you would be particularly interested in our local magic."

"Thank you, Menandi, I'd love some help." Sam returned the other woman's smile, then cast a glance over her head at Daniel. He looked up from his study of the cavern wall and gave her a small grin. She gave him a slight nod and turned back to her kit, impressed. So Daniel's preoccupation with the frescoes had been as much diplomatic maneuvering as academic enthusiasm. He'd avoided hostilities with Hariteia _and_ sent Sam someone who would hopefully prove a more willing source of information on the planet's 'magic.'

"That's why we keep feeding him," said the Colonel, strolling by with his arms crossed over his MP-5. There was something very like paternal pride in his grin. Sam smiled and turned back to Menandi, who was waiting patiently.

"I'd like to take some samples of the nearby soil and rock; I'll be testing it for the presence of some specific ores and minerals."

Menandi nodded. "These caves and tunnels, which now house our city, were once a vast mine. Some sections are still worked for various ores; perhaps you would like to take your samples from a few of the closer mining sites?" She gestured toward one of the nearby exits from the cave.

"That would be perfect, actually." Sam turned toward the Colonel, who was watching her, and nodded in the direction Menandi had indicated, tapping her sample kit. The Colonel nodded, then strolled over to Teal'c and Daniel. As Sam slung the sample kit over her shoulder and followed Menandi out of the cave, Teal'c detached himself from the others and fell into step behind her.

The tunnel they entered had obviously not been designed to accommodate anyone over five and a half feet tall. Sam could feel her hair grazing the ceiling and instinctively ducked her head slightly. Beside her, Teal'c was somehow making the act of walking with his neck bent at almost a fifty-degree angle look dignified.

"What elements will you be looking for in your tests?" Menandi asked curiously. Sam couldn't help noticing that the smaller woman had no trouble walking through the tunnel, and was moving with much more grace and dispatch than Sam could manage, encumbered as she was with her kit and trying not to hit her head.

"Well, I'll test for a number of different ones, but I'm going to look for a significant concentration of an element called naquadah in particular." Sam paused to squeeze through a particularly narrow section of tunnel, then added "It's what the Stargate is made of."

"By 'Stargate' you mean the Ring in the chamber of histories." Menandi raised her eyebrows, making the statement a question. When Sam nodded, she continued, "Then I think you will find a great deal of this element at our first destination. We are very close to one of the sites where it is currently being mined."

Sam began to hear--or perhaps feel--very low vibrations through the tunnel walls. They grew steadily stronger as she and Teal'c followed Menandi down branching tunnels. "Menandi, if we find that your planet has enough naquadah for the purpose, do you think your House of Governors would be open to some kind of trade agreement with my planet?"

Menandi looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied "I suppose it would depend heavily on the decision of the Accepted. The use of this ore is restricted to them." Sam grimaced, thinking she could probably guess how Hariteia and the other Accepted would decide that question, but Menandi continued "It would also likely depend on what was offered in trade." She cocked her head over her shoulder at Sam, obviously curious.

"Well, we normally offer medicines as a primary trade item; most of the peoples we've encountered through the Stargate haven't advanced very far in the field of medicine."

"I think you will find that our planet is an exception," Menandi smiled a little apologetically. "The healing magic of the Accepted can cure any injury and almost any disease."

"I'm sure we could work out some other agreement, then." Sam tried to sound more confident than she felt. She glanced at Teal'c, who was giving her the enigmatic eyebrow-lift that seemed to be his response to almost everything. Sam took this one to mean that Teal'c had as many reservations about the Accepted and their abilities as Sam had herself.

The vibrations intensified as they followed Menandi around a corner and found that the tunnel ended in a heavy door.

"I would suggest taking your samples from the rock here." Menandi indicated the tunnel walls around the door. "I tested the rock and soil here a year ago myself, which led to this mining site's placement. I think you'll find...what was your phrase?" She grinned. "A 'significant concentration' of what you call naquadah."

"Shouldn't I take samples from inside the mine itself?" asked Sam, looking from Menandi to the door, which had no discernible latch or hinges.

"Only the Accepted are permitted to enter the mine," said Menandi, "but I believe there should be enough traces of the ore in this rock to serve your purposes." She looked keenly at Sam's sample kit, as if impatient to see inside it. "What methods do you use to ascertain the presence of the ore in soil and rock? The device the House of Governors uses was provided by the Accepted, and is much smaller than yours."

"Oh, this isn't actually a device for testing, it's a kit of all the equipment I might need for testing." She opened the kit and began setting out items, explaining their uses while watching Teal'c out of the corner of her eye. He was looking at the door behind her, face inscrutable as usual. Sam was halfway through an explanation of acid testing, and had just paused to let Menandi ask a question when Teal'c cut smoothly into the conversation.

"Am I to understand that the mining of naquadah is entirely under the purview of the Accepted?"

"Yes," Menandi replied, "they do allow some of the more skilled assistants in the House of Governors to use their testing equipment to evaluate new mining sites," she did not look up from the streak plate she was holding, but the small note of pride in her voice was unmistakable. "However, the operations of mining are carried out with the Accepted's magic, so naturally others are not permitted to enter the mine once it has been established."

"And the Accepted do not impose any labor connected with the mining on your people?" Teal'c's tone was of polite inquiry, but Sam could hear a slight edge under his words.

"No, the Accepted use magic to perform most forms of unskilled labor," Menandi replied, still more interested in the contents of Sam's kit than in the conversation. "It frees the workers that would otherwise be needed to pursue training with the guilds." She had put down the streak plate and was holding the magnets up for scrutiny, experimentally separating and joining them. Teal'c, seeming satisfied with her answer, subsided.

"Menandi," Sam hesitated, holding a tube full of the fine grit that covered the tunnel's floor. When the other woman only looked at her expectantly, she continued, "You said the Accepted could cure almost any disease. Does that mean there are diseases that they can't cure?"

"Only one," Menandi replied, handing Sam the magnets. "The wandering sorrow. Perhaps it cannot be cured because it is not a disease in the common way. It is..." she paused, seeming to search for the best choice of words, "an affliction, perhaps, of the heart and mind. One might even say a madness. It is not an illness like most others. There is no pain, no suffering of the body, only of the spirit." She touched one hand to her chest.

"But you call it a disease," Sam frowned. "If it doesn't affect people physically, what are its symptoms?" When Menandi cocked her head at the unfamiliar word, Sam clarified: "What does it do to the people who have it?"

"They become sad first," Menandi sobered a bit. "They grow more and more unhappy and they can rarely give a reason for their unhappiness. They begin to wander farther and farther from the city and eventually they take one of the tunnels to the planet's surface, where the air is harsh and the ground is covered with ice. Most never return."

"Do they just freeze to death, or do they continue to live on the surface?" asked Sam, perplexed.

"Most of them live the rest of their years on the surface, though life on the surface is difficult and sometimes dangerous. Some die for lack of proper food or heat or medicine, all things that they would have in abundance here in the city." Menandi gave a small sigh. "From time to time, attempts are made to convince them to come back or to at least accept food and clothing." She shrugged and her smile faded a little. "They will not accept anything from the city. They say they are exiles."

Sam was still debating asking another question when Teal'c spoke. "What reason do these exiles give for leaving the city and refusing aid?"

Menandi looked down at Sam's kit and shook her head. "No doubt their reasons seem sound to them in their own minds, but to those who are clear-minded and are not afflicted with their strange sadness, they make little sense." She looked up, shrugged again and gave Sam a resigned smile. "Forgive me, I am being foolish. My sister took the wandering sorrow a long time ago and my father also, only a year ago. It is difficult to see those dear to one's heart impose suffering upon themselves for no reason."

"I'm sorry," said Sam, because she didn't know what else to say.

Menandi shook her head as if dismissing the subject. "It is not something that should concern you. If you have gathered enough samples for your test, I suggest we move on, as it will be time for the evening meal soon."

She helped Sam pack her samples away and led the way back down the tunnel, followed by Teal'c. Sam paused just long enough to touch the fingers of one hand to the implacable mine door, feeling the vibrations of what had to be heavy machinery buzzing through the metal. Then she turned and caught up with Teal'c, her mind humming, and followed the small, orange-clad figure back toward the city.

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By evening, or what passed for evening underground, Sam had a couple dozen mineral samples and a lot of mostly unhelpful information about the local technology to show for her day's work.

"Menandi seems very eager to answer my questions, and even more interested in asking _me_ questions, but she doesn't know any more than Bodhus about the technology or how it works," Sam gave a frustrated sigh as she collapsed onto the couch of one of the rooms the team had been given for the night. "She has no idea what powers the lights or how they work. These caves, despite being deep underground are very livable, so they obviously have other technology tucked away for things like air circulation and climate control, but she doesn't even know where that technology is housed, much less how it works. She just writes it all off as 'magic' and says that the Accepted make it work."

Colonel O'Neill, perched on a stool across from her, turned to Daniel, who was examining the painted walls of the room, his enthusiasm for frescoes apparently undimmed by his afternoon with Bodhus in the Gate cavern.

"Daniel?" he prompted.

Without looking away from the wall, Daniel responded "Well, I think I've got a little information that we can work with. The frescoes in the Stargate chamber are a kind of historical log. The style is very Hellenistic, but there are some distinctly Indian influences that lead me to believe that this culture is descended from a transplanted Greco-Bactrian population, probably taken during one of the Magnesian dynasties--"

"Daniel," the Colonel said again. "Information we can _use_."

Daniel rolled his eyes before continuing. "Anyway, the history related in the frescoes goes all the way back to a time roughly three hundred years ago that Bodhus referred to as the Age of Rebellion. It's the point from which they date their history, and Bodhus says that before that time the ancestors of these people were slaves to the gods."

"So it's safe to say this was a goa'uld-occupied world at one point," the Colonel said, looking at Teal'c, who merely nodded.

"It's a pretty good bet that this planet was home to a goa'uld naquadah mine," offered Sam, sitting up. "Menandi took us to where naqudah is currently being mined for use by the Accepted. She doesn't know what they use it for. It could be anything from bombs to a simple power-source." She gestured at the bowl-shaped light affixed to the room's ceiling.

"Let's hope for power-source," the Colonel said evenly.

Sam grinned. "Judging by the sounds we heard in the mine tunnel, I'd say they've got some pretty heavy equipment, but we couldn't get a look at the actual mining operation. Only the Accepted are allowed into the mine itself."

"Big surprise," the Colonel rolled his eyes.

"What I find interesting," Daniel said, turning toward the rest of them, fresco momentarily forgotten, "is that according to Bodhus, the rebellion that eventually cast out the gods and made the people of this planet free was driven by a group well-known as being the most intelligent and learned of the slaves. Apparently they met in secret to avoid punishment by the gods, probably because of the usual goa'uld injunctions against reading and information."

Another nod from Teal'c.

"So the goa'uld on this planet got his butt kicked by the resident chess club." Colonel O'Neill looked as though this thought amused him.

"Here's the really interesting thing:" Daniel didn't even seem to have noticed the interruption, "according to the histories, this group of learned slaves possessed a special talent that gave them the ability to use the god's own magic against them."

That made the Colonel sit up straighter. "So the chess club figured out how to work some goa'uld technology and used it to free the planet." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That sounds promising."

"Well, here's the thing," Daniel held up both hands as if telling the Colonel not to get too excited just yet. "After they defeated the gods, this group founded a guild of selected individuals, all of whom were said to possess this special talent for the gods' magic."

"The Accepted," said Sam, and Daniel just nodded.

"So," Colonel O'Neill glanced from Sam to Daniel to Teal'c and back to Sam. "What does that make the Accepted? Besides the chess club."

"They could honestly be the only people with enough talent and education in the right areas to understand how the technology works," replied Daniel, more hopeful than convinced.

"That is unlikely, Daniel Jackson." The Colonel had opened his mouth to make some form of scathing reply, but Teal'c's baritone cut him off. "As you said yourself, one need not understand a device to use it. Yet the Accepted seem to intentionally keep their people in a state of ignorance."

"So they're keeping all the fun toys for themselves and using them to achieve power and status," the Colonel shrugged. "Nothing we haven't seen before."

"I don't think we know enough about the situation to be assigning motivations to the Accepted just yet, Jack," said Daniel. "I agree, it does look like they're keeping a lot of information from the rest of the people, but I'm not convinced they're doing it purely to secure power and status for themselves. You saw how Bodhus behaved toward Hariteia this morning."

"When she tried to stop us from talking about how our radios worked." Sam nodded.

"Exactly," replied Daniel. "Bodhus was gracious and respectful but not subservient to Hareteia. She obviously wanted us to stop asking questions about their 'magic,' and didn't like that you were trying to explain how our technology worked. But if she and the rest of the Accepted were using their horded technology to lord over their people, don't you think she would have just ordered that the subject be dropped or even denied us permission to stay?"

"I noted," said Teal'c, "that of all the officials who greeted us upon our arrival, only Hariteia appeared to be an Accepted. Would they not form a more substantial part of the governing body if they were indeed using their knowledge to gain power over others?"

"Exactly," Daniel said again, turning back to the wall.

"Well, whatever." Colonel O'Neill stood and stretched. "I'm turning in. It's been a long day of watching you take notes. Teal'c, take first watch just in case our hosts are hiding something more than the batteries for their lights. I'll relieve you in a few hours. We'll see if we can't dig up some more answers in the morning."

Sam unrolled her sleeping bag onto the floor--four separate rooms had been provided but none of them liked sleeping away from the others offworld--and began untying her boots.

"Sam, you said you were sure that machinery was being used for mining naquadah but that you couldn't tell what kind was being used." Daniel had turned away from the wall again, but he was gazing thoughtfully over Sam's head instead of at her.

"The vibrations I could feel in the tunnel were made by something big, and there was definitely a regular rhythm to them." Sam nodded. "Sure sounded like machinery to me, and nothing simple, either. Whatever was behind that door was pretty complex."

"When researching how various ancient cultures constructed their monuments, we could learn a lot about the process and tools they used just by looking at the sites where the stone had been quarried." Daniel tilted his head to one side and seemed to be scrutinizing the frescoes behind Sam. "I'll see if I can't get Bodhus to take me to an abandoned mining site tomorrow. There've got to be old, exhausted mines lying around. Maybe the Accepted don't keep those off limits once the mining equipment has been moved elsewhere."

"Bedtime, kids," the Colonel's voice issued from the huddle of his sleeping bag. "Daniel, you may have won the coin-toss, but this floor is cold and if you don't start using that couch soon, you may find that it's become occupied while you were busy staring at the walls."

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"I love the planets that give us breakfast instead of shooting at us." Colonel O'Neill was munching happily on the remains of some sort of spicy bread as he and Sam followed Menandi down a long tunnel the next morning. He was so pleased with the local cuisine that he had yet to complain about how low the tunnel's ceiling was, but Sam figured it was only a matter of time before he ran out of bread and noticed that he was having to hunch uncomfortably in order to avoid hitting his head. "So where are we headed?" he asked, popping another morsel of bread into his mouth.

"Menandi mentioned that the Accepted keep mostly to a remote cavern where they have a sort of guild hall set up," Sam answered.

Colonel O'Neill devoured the last of his breakfast bread, licked crumbs off his thumb and, right on cue, shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. "And to get to this hall, it is necessary to crawl through a bunch of tunnels built by dwarfs _for_ dwarfs?"

Sam hid a smile. "Yes, sir." She paused, but couldn't resist adding, "You _could_ have stayed with Daniel in the main cavern, where the ceiling's a lot higher."

"Yes," he agreed cheerfully, "but then I would have had to listen to another full day of Daniel rhapsodizing about frescoes and magnesium and bacteria." Sam cocked an eyebrow at him and he added: "Or whatever. So we're just going to this guild hall for the view? I assume they're not going to actually let us inside so you can poke around."

"The Accepted do not allow visitors to the Hall unless they are there to be tested," Menandi offered, glancing over her shoulder.

"Tested?" Sam prompted.

"Yes," Menandi replied. "Everyone must be tested when they reach their fifteenth year to find if they possess the talent for magic. If they do, they are admitted into the Hall and allowed to put on the gray." At Sam's questioning expression, she clarified: "They become one of the Accepted. The gray hood is a symbol of their status."

"So what exactly _is_ their status?" asked the Colonel. "Do they run the show around here? Tell everyone else what to do?"

"There is always one Accepted who is chosen by the others to represent the Hall at the House of Governors--you met Hariteia yesterday, I believe; she is the Hall's delegate at the moment--but they do not control the House any more than the other seated delegates." Menandi smiled at the Colonel like a teacher explaining the basics of the checks and balances system to a twelve-year-old. "The Hall's delegate merely acts as an adviser to the governors in matters where magic is concerned, and ensures that the Hall is represented as befits one of our most important guilds."

"So the Accepted are the only ones with knowledge of magic," Sam tried not to let her discomfort with the term show in her voice, "but they don't use that knowledge to make any demands on the rest of you?"

Menandi shook her head, still smiling. "They ask that the use and understanding of magic remain strictly within their Hall, but the other guilds have similar requirements with regard to their skills and knowledge. It is only prudence, as magic could become very dangerous in the hands of those who do not understand it."

Sam shared a glance with Colonel O'Neill, but didn't know quite what to make of this intelligence. They slowed to a stop as they reached a low doorway in the tunnel. They stepped through and for the second time this mission, Sam found herself saying "Wow."

The cavern they had entered was, quite simply, vast. The dome of its roof was lost in darkness and its floor, dotted with lamps that looked tiny from this distance, was several hundred feet down from the balcony where they had emerged. Menandi pointed toward a large, domed structure at the center of the cavern, surrounded by lamps.

"That is the Hall of the Accepted. It is kept far from the city so that the Accepted may practice their magic undisturbed."

"Or so that no one can get a decent look at it without taking a long hike," added the Colonel in an undertone.

Sam pulled her hand-held sensor out of her vest and started keying through readings, frowning. Whatever the Accepted were hiding in their Hall, it was certainly more than a simple power station; the sensor was picking up energy signatures like nothing she had ever seen before. "Menandi, you mention a test that determines if someone has the talent required to become an Accepted."

The smaller woman nodded. "Yes, it is taken by every citizen in their fifteenth year. Those who pass remain in the Hall and put on the gray. Most do not, and they return to the city and their lives."

"And what does the test involve?" asked Sam.

"Various tasks to be performed, questions answered. I imagine you have similar ways of determining aptitude on your world. The specifics of the test are not to be revealed to the untested, of course," she added with a trace of apology to her smile.

"Can we get any closer to the Hall, or is this where the tour ends?" asked Colonel O'Neill, squinting through his monocular at the distant building and its cluster of lights.

"This is as far as any but the Accepted may go," Menandi replied. "They prize their seclusion, as it is required for the practice of their art."

"Yeah, I'll bet it is," the Colonel said under his breath, putting the monocular away. "All right, well, I guess that's it, then. We came, we saw, we...saw some more." He looked pointedly at Sam's hand-held. "You see everything you wanted to see?"

"I think so, sir." She nodded and put the hand-held back in her vest, turning back to follow Menandi through the door again.

Daniel's voice suddenly crackled out of their radios. "Jack, Sam, come in." Sam felt her heart skip a beat at the urgency in his voice.

"Daniel, what's wrong?" the Colonel asked, grip tightening reflexively on is MP-5.

"Bodhus is hurt. We were studying some of the debris in an abandoned mine and there was a cave-in--" he cut off for a moment, then added "One of his assistants is here, and he says that help will be arriving very shortly, but he's hurt pretty--" Another pause while Daniel spoke to someone else, and then "Hariteia's here with two other Accepted. Looks like they're getting him ready to be moved."

"You okay?" the Colonel asked.

"Bodhus was half-buried in rock by the time we got to him," said Daniel. "I think there might have been spinal damage, not to mention head trauma."

"Not what I asked."

"Teal'c and I are fine, Jack." Daniel's voice was edged with irritation. "Hariteia and her assistants are taking Bodhus away for treatment."

"Where are they taking him?" Sam asked.

It was a moment before Daniel answered. "Ah, I asked and offered to help, but Hariteia just said that the Accepted would take care of him and the help of outsiders was not needed. She was...pretty _definite_ about not wanting Teal'c and me to come with."

"Told ya where you could shove it, huh?" The Colonel grimaced.

"Basically, yeah," Daniel admitted, sounding chagrined. "She's having Bodhus's assistant take us back to the city. Apparently she doesn't like us poking around here. I got the sense that she was already on her way here to kick us out of the mine when the accident happened."

"Okay, well, we're on our way back anyway, we'll meet you back at our rooms." The Colonel turned to Menandi, who had been watching them use their radios with interest.

"Bodhus was right, your magic is, indeed, amazing to allow you to speak to your friend when he is so far removed from you," she said.

"Yeah, well, apparently Bodhus got himself injured pretty seriously while he was showing our friend around," said the Colonel.

"The Accepted will care for him, he will be fine," she assured him, unconcerned. "Their healing magic is very powerful."

Their hike back to the city was conducted at the same pace they'd employed getting out to the cavern. Sam kept suggesting that they move more quickly, but Menandi simply repeated that the Accepted would take care of Bodhus and there was no need to hurry. Instead, she turned the comversation back to the radios. "You said on your arrival yesterday that your magic worked by creating waves. These waves are not visible, I take it?"

"No, they're below the frequency of visible light," Sam replied, distracted, and then had to give an explanation of what she meant by "visible light." By the time they had reached the city's outskirts, Menandi had become thoroughly charmed by the idea of color as wavelength.

"How strange to think of everything looking as it does because it reflects the light a certain way. But then that would mean that we do not truly see things as they are, only as they are shaped by these waves of visible light," she smiled eagerly at Sam. "How fascinating it would be to see things truly. Can you see in this way, using your magic?"

"Uh, well, we can use our technology to see things using a lot of different wavelengths, not all of them visible to the naked eye," Sam replied, still puzzled by the other woman's blithe disregard for Bodhus, the Accepted and their powerful healing magic notwithstanding. "But I wouldn't necessarily say that any one view is more 'true' than the others, each one is really just one part of the whole."

Menandi opened her mouth to ask another question, but they had reached the room where Daniel and Teal'c were waiting and the Colonel was asking them for word on Bodhus.

"We haven't heard anything since Hariteia left the mining site with him," Daniel reported.

"I will go to Hariteia and ask after Bodhus," said Menandi. "He will be pleased to know of your concern." Still smiling, she departed.

"She's very sanguine about the whole Bodhus-crushed-by-falling-rocks thing," commented the Colonel.

"So was Bodhus's assistant when it happened," replied Daniel. "And although he didn't actually get literally crushed, he did look pretty severely injured and he _was_ unconscious. I would have expected a greater sense of urgency out of his assistant at least, but the only people who seemed in any way concerned were Hariteia and the other Accepted. The rest just kept saying that the Accepted would take care of him and that he'd be fine."

"That's pretty much all we got out of Menandi, too." Sam nodded, troubled.

"Could their medical technology just be that good?" asked the Colonel, raising his eyebrows.

Daniel looked like he was entertaining the possibility but Teal'c wasn't. "I believe Bodhus's injuries were quite grave. Even if the Accepted commanded healing technology to equal that of Earth, I would still believe there to be cause for concern."

"But you see, all is well! Though your concern touches my heart."

They all turned, surprised, to find Bodhus smiling at them from the doorway. Sam glanced quickly from Daniel, whose mouth had fallen open, to Teal'c, who actually _blinked_ with surprise.

Menandi came around Bodhus and into the room, smiling. "I found him returning home and told him how worried you had been."

"I thought perhaps you feared for me, not knowing how easily the Accepted can heal one of almost anything with their magic," said Bodhus, sounding as jolly and robust as he had when he welcomed them the day previous. "And I thought if you saw how well I am, you would be easier in your minds. But now I must take my leave; the Accepted healers have told me that I must rest for their curative to complete its work. I regret, Doctor Jackson, that we must delay our study of the east wall histories. Perhaps tomorrow?"

Daniel found his voice long enough to stammer "Uh, yes, I...we're glad you're...tomorrow. Yes." Bodhus gave another of his expansive gestures in farewell and left, shepherded by Menandi.

"That's not...he was...there's no way he could..." Daniel gestured vaguely.

"Bodhus's condition was severe enough to make such a recovery unlikely," Teal'c supplied.

"Okay, that's a little bit fishy," said the Colonel unnecessarily. He glanced around at the rest of them and asked "So what are we thinking? Goa'uld sarcophagus?"

"The goa'uld that ruled here could have left one behind," said Daniel.

"Or they could have come up with something of their own," Sam added. "The readings I got near the guild hall were suggestive of a massive amount of technology and I'm guessing it's pretty advanced."

"And yet they're not sharing," said Colonel O'Neill. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"That's the funny thing, sir," Sam replied. "They're obviously keeping their knowledge and technology a secret, but they aren't using it like a goa'uld would, to enforce slavery and worship. Teal'c, can you think of a goa'uld who would put the effort into developing technology to perform manual labor instead of using slaves?"

"I cannot."

"But from what we heard yesterday, the Accepted have done just that: they've built machines to do the mining the slaves once did. They obviously use their knowledge for the benefit of the general populace," she said, waving a hand at the doorway, where Bodhus had so recently stood.

"Which would be great if they were a little more likely to share their toys with _our_ general populace." The Colonel shrugged. "But since they're keeping their own people in the dark _and_ don't seem to need anything we have to offer, I'm betting the odds of us securing any kind of trade agreement with them are not good."

"Maybe if we talked to them, explained why we're here, how we're only trying to defend ourselves from the goa'uld," said Daniel.

"I don't know, Daniel, I didn't get the impression they were very open to dialogue, did you?" Sam raised her eyebrows in question.

Daniel sighed. "No, not really," he admitted, "but I still think it's worth a try. It never hurts to ask." When the Colonel cocked an eyebrow, he added "Okay, in some cases, that's not true. But I think in _this_ case it couldn't hurt. I'm going to go find one of Bodhus's assistants and see if I can't speak to Hariteia, maybe get an audience with the Accepted."

"Sounds like a good time." The Colonel sounded less than enthused but waved for Daniel to precede him through the door. He called back over his shoulder "You two see what else you can dig up."

"Will do, sir," Sam replied and Teal'c nodded. Sam glanced upward as they departed and found her gaze drawn to the large dome light above them. She must have stood there, her head tilted back in silent calculation, for several minutes because it was Teal'c who finally broke the silence.

"Captain Carter." It was almost a question, but not quite.

"Teal'c, could you stand in the doorway and warn me if anyone besides Daniel or Colonel O'Neill is coming?"

The Jaffa eyed her impassively. Sam decided to interpret this as a request for elaboration.

"I'm going to try to detach our lamp from the ceiling and see how it works. If nothing else, it should give me an idea of what their level of technology is like and maybe what they're using as a power source."

"Does it not seem likely that such activities, if discovered, may lead to an undesirable encounter?"

Sam pulled a stool under the light and grinned at him. "Well you'll just have to make sure I'm not discovered."

Teal'c seemed to consider this chain of reasoning for a moment, then silently strode to the doorway, where he stationed himself with his back to her. Sam decided it was just her imagination that his back looked unconvinced that this was a good idea. She stepped onto the stool and began prying at the light where it met the ceiling with her fingers, looking for whatever was holding it in place.

After five minutes, she had established that there were no visible bolts or screws that could be removed. After fifteen more minutes of scraping and pulling at the lamp, digging at the ceiling and trying to wedge a flat-headed screwdriver between the two, Sam's shoulders and neck were vehemently protesting this treatment and she was no closer to having any idea how the lamp was affixed, much less how it worked. She climbed off the stool in defeat and sat down on it, rubbing her aching neck and glaring at the light through her bangs.

"Someone approaches, Captain Carter." Teal'c was still facing the tunnel outside the room, but he must have known from the absence of scraping and muttering that she had given up her efforts on the lamp. Sam wondered if continuing his sentry duty was his obscure way of mocking her. She stood and dusted herself off as a short man in a green chiton appeared in the doorway.

"You are Captain Carter and Teal'c?" Their visitor looked apprehensively from Sam to the Jaffa towering over him in the doorway. Sam guessed him to be a little younger than Menandi. "I am called Kunind; I am a friend of Menandi. I would speak with you a moment."

"It's all right, Teal'c, let him in." Sam tried not to take it personally that Teal'c stood blocking Kunind's entry for another full second, apparently evaluating the much smaller man for himself before standing aside.

"Thank you." Kunind gave Teal'c a mistrustful glance as he entered and turned to address Sam, drawing himself up to his full five-and-a-half feet of height. "Menandi has told me of you. She says you are very learned in the magic of your own world. Is this true?"

"Well, I'm a scientist," said Sam. "I understand a lot about physics and technology, but that's not the same thing as magic. Or at least, I wouldn't call it that," she added, wishing Daniel were present.

Kunind waved this aside. "Menandi says that you have many methods and devices for the divination of knowledge, like the Accepted," he insisted. "She says that you have great understanding of things as they truly are."

Sam balked at this rather mystical-sounding description of her own scientific instruments and practices, but Kunind did not allow her to protest.

"The people of this city have no access to such devices or such knowledge unless it is at the express permission of the Accepted. The knowledge of how to use and control magic is kept secret in their hall, and only those who pass their tests may aspire to learn."

He paused, as if expecting some reply, but Sam didn't know what to say. When she remained silent, Kunind continued, suddenly looking vaguely furtive.

"Menandi says that you are generous with your knowledge. I and several others are eager for an understanding of the use of magic. I have come to ask if you would share this knowledge with us, and perhaps," he paused, as if unsure of himself, then plunged ahead, "And even perhaps afford us the use of some of your magical devices. In exchange we would be willing to help you discover more about the magic of the Accepted."

Sam blinked at him. "You mean that you have access to information about the Accepted and their magic?"

"I and others have known of ways to gain such access for many years. We have made a labor of collecting whatever information we can about the magic of our world." Kunind definitely looked furtive now, even to the point of casting a glance over his shoulder at the door. Sam leveled her gaze at him and he admitted: "Our methods are not strictly within the laws of our city, but we believe that such laws are only a device of the Accepted, a way to keep the people of the city ignorant."

"Okay, so you have information that the Accepted are concealing." Sam paused and then asked, "But why would you need our help, in that case? And why would you be willing to share it with us? You don't even know much about us."

"I know that you are free with your knowledge, where the Accepted are greedy and secretive with theirs," Kunind replied, spreading his hands as if this was all that needed to be said on the matter. "And while my colleagues and I have been collecting information for years, we are forbidden the learning afforded to those who pass the tests and put on the gray, and so we cannot understand what we collect. We can possess information but we cannot _use_ it. It is one thing to have knowledge of magic, but it is another thing to control it, to command it."

Sam didn't like the gleam that came into Kunind's eyes at the thought of commanding magic the way he was convinced the Accepted could. She looked over his head at Teal'c, who was watching the exchange with a frown. (Not that that was a very helpful indicator of his thoughts on the matter, since Teal'c's default facial expression was a frown, and Sam couldn't tell if _this_ frown was disapproving or simply disinterested.)

"Kunind, say I gave you our technology and the knowledge to use it. What would you do?"

"I would use it to force the Accepted to release their knowledge of our world's magic," he replied. "Then the entire city would have the use of it, as the Accepted do now."

"Have not most of the citizens been tested by the Accepted and found to be lacking an aptitude for magic?" Teal'c spoke softly but Kunind turned to him with a start, as if he had forgotten the Jaffa was in the room.

"The test is nothing but a lie!" said Kunind, and he suddenly sounded fiercely bitter. "I myself have taken the test thrice and I have never passed it."

"You've taken the test three times?" asked Sam, baffled.

"It is the right of every citizen to be retested as many times as he desires." Kunind made a small derisive noise in his throat. "Of course, it makes no difference how many times it is taken. The test never changes, and yet I failed it each time, despite years of study. So it is with many of our wisest and most learned citizens, whereas many of the Accepted possessed no special intelligence or knowledge before they put on the gray."

"What exactly does the test entail?" asked Sam.

Kunind's bitter expression deepened. He replied with a sneer, "Questions with no answers, problems without solutions. After I underwent testing for the second time, I realized that the second test had been the same as the first and I devoted myself to study of every subject pertaining to the test, but to no avail: I still did not pass on the third testing." He held up his hands as if his own inability to pass the test were all the evidence needed to pronounce the thing impossible.

"You believe that you and others are excluded from the Accepted order for some other reason than a failure to successfully complete the test." Teal'c didn't bother to make it a question.

"The test is an excuse!" Kunind didn't seem to have taken Teal'c's choice of the word 'failure' very well; he spoke angrily now. "The Accepted only allow those they can control to put on the gray. They do not wish to share their power with others whose talents and intellects might equal or surpass their own."

"And you believe that our world's magic is the solution to this problem?" said Teal'c.

"I do." Kunind nodded fervently. "Your magic is unlike that of the Accepted. It is outside their understanding. With it, we could force them to release their strictures on the study and use of our world's magic. All of my people could be equal in knowledge to the Accepted. As would you, yourselves," he added.

"If you possessed the use of our magic and this goal were achieved," Teal'c's left eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, "would you release the secrets of our world's magic to your people as well as those of your own?"

"Yes," said Kunind, but there was the merest pause before his reply that gave Sam time to wonder. Teal'c, who seemed to have no further questions, remained silent, still frowning. Sam felt a frown forming on her own features and she was considering her next question when footsteps sounded in the tunnel outside. A moment later, Menandi appeared in the doorway.

"Kunind," she seemed surprised to see him, but pleasantly so.

"Menandi," Kunind smiled ingratiatingly from her to Sam. "I decided to come and meet Captain Carter myself after you spoke of her. Your reports of her wisdom and graciousness were not exaggerated."

Menandi laughed and said, "I was just coming to invite Captain Carter and her friends to join me for the afternoon meal. Would you like to join us?"

Kunind glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye and replied "You honor me with your invitation, but I am afraid I cannot." He turned to Sam. "I'm sure I will be seeing you again soon, Captain Carter?" He wasn't terribly subtle about the emphasis he placed on the question, but Menandi seemed oblivious.

Sam regarded him for a long moment, thinking furiously. He was offering them pieces, possibly crucial pieces, of the puzzle she had been trying to solve for two days. And he wasn't asking for anything in return that SG-1 weren't constantly trying to obtain for their own world: enough power to right wrongs and defend themselves from oppression. But in the moment that she had to come to a decision, she couldn't bring herself to trust this angry little man.

"I'm afraid we won't have a chance to meet again, Kunind. Colonel O'Neill will probably want to return to our own planet in a few hours."

Kunind's face darkened for a split second and then he was smiling again. "Very well. Goodbye, then, Captain Carter." He nodded to Menandi and made his exit, casting an unreadable look at Teal'c as he passed.

Sam was already having second thoughts when Menandi turned back to her and said "My home is not far from here; will you come and eat?" and gestured for them to follow her out into the tunnel. Sam stood and followed her, deep in thought. Menandi glanced asked "Are Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson not with you?"

"What? Oh, no," Sam shook her head and tried to smile. "They went to speak to Hariteia."

"Then I will bring them something to eat when they have returned," said Menandi, leading them down the tunnel. She stopped them at a doorway and motioned for them to precede her into a room that looked very like their own, having the same dome lamp and frescoed walls. Menandi's low table was already set with pitchers and cups, and she ushered them over to it, saying, "Sit and drink. I will go and fetch the meal." She disappeared into the next room, and there was silence for a few moments.

"Captain Carter."

Sam looked up to find Teal'c gazing at her steadily from across the table. "Teal'c?"

"I believe that your decision with regard to Kunind was the correct one."

She blinked, surprised by his directness, and there was a pause before she replied, "Thank you, Teal'c." He gave her that incredibly graceful half-nod that was his alone and she found herself smiling and wondering how so few words from someone who wasn't even human could reassure her so thoroughly.

Menandi came in bearing a platter of vegetables and a savory-looking loaf of bread. "I will be sorry to see you go," she said, serving their portions into bowls. "I have enjoyed our conversations, Captain Carter, and I know Bodhus has been very pleased to share our history with Doctor Jackson."

Sam was confused for the split second it took her to remember that her refusal of Kunind's offer had taken the form of an announcement that the team had plans to leave soon. "Well maybe Daniel and I can convince Colonel O'Neill to let us stay here a little longer," she replied. "I'd certainly like a chance to see a few more of the mining sites." _And see if Daniel and I can't piece together a few more clues about the Accepted's technology_, she added silently.

"I would be very happy to see you stay. I have not had such interesting company since my sister took the wandering sorrow." Menandi's voice grew a bit wistful. "My sister was very intelligent, very strong. And very wise, as well; she could not only understand very difficult things, but also explain them simply, as you do."

"Well, I have a lot of practice explaining things to Colonel O'Neill," Sam chuckled. "He likes to keep things simple."

Menandi laughed. "So did my father, when he and my sister were still in the city. My sister would become excited about some new thing she had learned in her studies and she would talk for days about it. He would say: 'If you must speak of such things to an old man, you might at least have the courtesy to make them less burdensome to his old mind.'" She laughed again, but a little sadly. "I was so sure my sister would be allowed to put on the gray when she went to be tested. Instead, when she returned from the hall, she was sorrowful and hardly spoke. Not long after, she made her way to the surface, where she is now."

Sam frowned. "You mean she got the wandering sorrow right after she was tested by the Accepted?"

Menandi nodded. "It is so with many of those afflicted, though not with all. My father had not been tested in many years when he left for the surface."

"But most of the people who exile themselves to the surface do so shortly after being tested? Doesn't anyone think there might be a connection?" Sam stared incredulously at the other woman.

"It may be that the tests have something to do with it," said Menandi, slicing more bread. "Some of the things experienced during the test are unsettling, and perhaps some are not prepared in their mind for what they encounter." She shrugged, seeming to find the suggestion of only academic interest. "But the majority of those tested never take the wandering sorrow, so perhaps there is no connection, after all."

"But what do you mean, 'unsettling'?" Sam's doubts about Kunind and his offer were gnawing at her again, and she remembered him saying '_They do not wish to share their power with others whose talents and intellects might equal or surpass their own.'_ She looked at Menandi, whose sister had been intelligent and strong and yet failed this mysterious test with the result that she had become a strangely willing exile from her city and her family.

"I wish I could tell you more," Menandi seemed dismayed but confused by Sam's alarm. "The test is not spoken of to the untested."

"Why not?" Sam knew she sounded upset, but she couldn't help it. "Kunind says it's always the same test, every time he's taken it."

Menandi looked at her empty bowl, frowning. "I would not know, as I have only taken the test once. Kunind was indiscreet to tell you so much. He is frustrated; he wishes for nothing more than to become an Accepted. But I hope that I have not upset you." She gave Sam a pleading smile. "I am a poor hostess to speak of such unhappy things at table."

Sam managed to say something vaguely apologetic and reassuring in response, though she wasn't paying very close attention. Her mind was racing, trying to find the pattern in too few pieces of information. The naquadah mining, the secrecy, Bodhus's miraculous recovery, the energy emanating from the cavern where a test took place that couldn't be spoken of to those who hadn't taken it. She looked across the table at Teal'c, and she thought she could detect a tiny echo of her own unease in his eyes.

Menandi smiled brightly again, attempting to salvage the cheerful atmosphere that the meal had started with. Her conversation was light-hearted, her questions superficial. Sam tried to respond in kind, but found herself too preoccupied with her own thoughts to make a very good job of it. She could tell she was distressing Menandi with her sudden detachment, but found she couldn't work up a more convincing show of enjoyment for the rest of the meal.

Menandi still looked concerned when they left, bearing wrapped parcels of bread and vegetables for Daniel and Colonel O'Neill. Sam walked swiftly down the tunnel to their room, deposited the parcels on the table and returned to her stool, where she sat and proceeded to contemplate her own boots for a several minutes. She looked up to find Teal'c standing at the Jaffa equivalent of parade rest in the doorway, regarding her seriously.

"Something is not right, here, Teal'c." Saying it didn't help anything, but Sam couldn't take the silent confusion of her own thoughts any more. "Why would taking this test cause people to suddenly get up and leave behind family, friends, all the comforts of living in this city?"

"You are concerned that the exiles do so not of their own accord but at the wishes of the Accepted."

Sam smiled wryly: You had to hand it to Teal'c. He might not talk much, but apparently not much got by him, either. She nodded and looked up at the lamp, as if for inspiration. "Do they leave because they're somehow banished by the Accepted? But Menandi said they choose to leave the city. Maybe they learn something during the testing process that the Accepted want kept quiet, and they have to leave and keep quiet about the reason under some threat of retribution if they tell anyone why they're really leaving. But that doesn't make sense: why banish them if they'll keep quiet under threat just as well in the city?"

She looked back at Teal'c, who raised one eyebrow fractionally. After a few beats of silence, Sam decided that was the only response she was going to get, and turned back to her scrutiny of the lamp.

"I just need more information, something that will help me makes sense of all this." She sighed and after a moment stood up and climbed back onto the stool and pulled her screwdriver from her vest. Teal'c, as if on cue, turned silently in the doorway and took up surveillance of the tunnel outside.

Sam glared at the lamp and stabbed at its base as though it were responsible for the whole, frustrating problem of this planet, the Accepted, the exiles on the surface, and the 'magic' that seemed to link them all. She knew the lamp was immovably affixed, knew that she had already done everything she could think of to detach it, take it apart, find out how it functioned. She knew that even if she somehow managed to get a look inside it, it wouldn't hold the answers she was looking for. But it was there and it was something to do, and it _might_ give her some kind of clue about_something_, and that was better than nothing.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Sam was ready to jump down when she heard the Colonel's voice coming closer.

"...just that saying 'IDC code' is like saying 'PIN number.' The 'N' has the 'number' thing already covered. You're basically saying 'identification code_code_.' We don't say 'DHD device,' we don't say 'ATM machine.'"

"People say 'ATM machine' all the time." Daniel sounded annoyed.

"Well, people are idiots."

Sam would have smiled if her arms and shoulders hadn't been groaning with the effort of working the screwdriver around the base of the light, fighting for any purchase between the rock and the metal.

"Jack, just because you take a prescriptivist's view of language doesn't mean it has to conform to some kind of codified standard. Linguistic prescription doesn't take into account the fact that language is not a static--" The building monologue was cut short when Daniel and Colonel O'Neill entered the room to find Sam standing on a stool and prying at the dome light with a screwdriver.

"Captain?" The Colonel sounded halfway between chiding and amused.

Sam answered through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to detach the light from the ceiling so I can see how it works and maybe figure out how it's being powered."

"And how's that coming for you?" the Colonel inquired pleasantly.

"It's not," Sam admitted, letting her hands fall to her sides and rolling her neck. She stepped down from the stool and tossed the screwdriver at the corner where their packs were piled, feeling defeated. "Did you get to speak to Hariteia?"

"Yes." Daniel pursed his lips and sighed. "She wasn't impressed. She said that revealing anything about their technology to anyone who hadn't been tested was completely out of the question. Only she didn't say 'technology' she insisted on calling it 'magic' even after I explained that we were from a technologically advanced planet and that we knew the mining and the lights and the whole thing were not the product of magic."

"She wasn't too thrilled to hear that," said the Colonel, who had found the parcel of bread from Menandi and was making quick work of the contents. He took another bite and said with his mouth full, "I think she'd like to find a reason to boot us back through the Gate ASAP. Apparently, she thinks the way we just run around using our radios and acid tests and whatnot is an indication of what an irresponsible society we hail from."

"You have to remember, Jack, that their society has rigid restrictions on access to technology, and for all we know they're right to have those restrictions." Daniel sank onto the couch, looking frustrated. "I still don't think we can just assume that their motivation for hiding things from the rest of the city is malicious."

"Look, all I know is that everyone on this planet smiles too damn much except for the Accepted, who always look like they've just eaten a bad pickle. That, by itself, is enough to make me suspicious."

Daniel looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. "We haven't seen anything to indicate that the Accepted are using their knowledge to do anything but heal people, light tunnels, and mine naquadah."

"But they won't tell anyone _why_ they're mining naquadah unless they've taken this stupid test," replied the Colonel. "Which they won't let us take, so we're hosed."

"You asked to take the test?" Sam asked, incredulous.

Daniel replied, "Well, it seemed like it would be worth asking." Sam got the impression that he had already had to defend himself on this point to the Colonel. "It's supposed to be all answering questions and completing tasks, right? I figured it's probably to determine if the test-taker is intelligent enough to be trusted with potentially dangerous technology," he waved at Sam. "Which, if true, means it would be the kind of test that you, at least, could pass easily."

"I don't know if it's that kind of test, after all, Daniel. Apparently just being talented and well-educated doesn't guarantee a pass." Sam explained what they had learned in the past few hours: Kunind and his offer, Menandi's sister, the wandering sorrow.

"You think the test is what prompts the exiles to leave for the surface." Daniel's forehead creased, and Sam could see him evaluating the idea.

"From what Menandi said, there's certainly enough of a correlation to suggest some kind of connection. She didn't seem to think so, but that's what it sounded like. She said that elements of the test might be 'unsettling' to people who weren't 'prepared in their minds,' but she wouldn't clarify what she meant because--"

"We haven't been tested, yeah." The Colonel was looking from her to Daniel, expectantly. "So what do we do, kids?"

"Well, we could always talk to the exiles," said Daniel.

Sam stared at him for a minute and then laughed. Daniel and the Colonel both looked at her in confusion, so she explained "I've been fighting with the light fixture for the past half hour like it held the answers to all our questions. It never occurred to me to just go ask the exiles _why_ they were exiles. Menandi mentioned that people from the city go to surface occasionally; I'll ask her how we can get there."

Colonel O'Neill clapped his hands together and said "Alright, then. Since we seem to be headed in a butt-freezing direction, I'm going to go dial the SGC and request arctic gear. Daniel, you're coming with me. Carter, you and Teal'c go ask for directions."

"Yes, sir." Sam turned and headed out the door with Teal'c following. Behind them, the Colonel and Daniel took the tunnel in the opposite direction, heading toward the Stargate, Daniel already chattering about whether or not the inhospitableness of the planet's surface might be a result of retaliation on the part of the planet's former goa'uld ruler.

Sam woke on the floor of an empty white room, reached reflexively for her MP-5, and found it and her vest gone. She tried to stand, heart pounding, and made it to her knees before reeling back to the floor, head suddenly aching furiously enough to make her squeeze her eyes shut again.

"Colonel? Daniel? Teal'c?" She knew they weren't in the tiny room, had already seen that she was its only occupant, but she said their names anyway. When silence answered her, she braced herself for another attempt at verticality.

An indefinable movement in the air told her that a door had opened behind her, and she rolled over and opened one eye.

"Your friends are safe, as are you." The man who stood in the doorway was small, even by this planet's standards, but his lined face was composed and confident. Sam was unsurprised to see that his chiton was gray.

"I'm in the Hall of the Accepted, aren't I?" She blinked both eyes experimentally, but the headache seemed to be fading quickly.

"You are. I am called Demetru. I am to supervise you as you undergo the test."

"Daniel said we couldn't take the test." She stood, swaying a bit, and leaned to steady herself on the door frame.

"Hariteia relayed your request to the Hall. It has been reconsidered. If you are sufficiently recovered, please come this way." Demetru's voice and manner were curt and unemotional. He turned and started down a narrow hallway which ended in a door like the one at the entrance to the naquadah mine. Sam hung back, trying to marshal her thoughts.

"We were in the city, in the tunnels. I just woke up...how did you bring me here? Where are my friends?"

"They are safe, as I have told you. You were all brought here with the magic of the Accepted. You are to be tested."

"I don't believe in magic," said Sam. "How did you bring us here?"

"You will have answers when you have passed the test."

"And my friends?"

"They are waiting to be tested, as well." Demetru indicated the door with a patient gesture.

Sam stayed where she was. "Menandi told me that many of the exiles on the surface first showed signs of the wandering sorrow just after they were tested."

"That is true."

Sam eyed Demetru suspiciously. "You don't deny that there's a connection?"

"I do not." Demetru returned her gaze evenly.

"What_is_ the connection between the test and the exiles? Why do they leave the city? What reason do they give their loved ones? Menandi never told me."

"You will have answers when you have passed the test," he repeated.

"Why should I let you test me at all? Why should I trust you?"

"Because I have not lied to you."

Sam laughed bitterly. "No, you've only concealed, avoided, withheld the truth. How do I know I'm not going to walk into that room and be killed?"

"Because the Accepted have already had ample opportunity to harm you and have not done so." Demetru spread his hands as if this should be obvious.

"I suppose that's true," she replied with a grimace. "But—"

"You shall have answers, Captain Carter." Demetru spoke firmly over her protest. "But first, the test." When Sam still held back, he took a step toward her and held out both hands, palms up. "Judge for yourself whether I would deceive you. I know that you discern much of the characters of others. You did not trust Kunind. I think you know that you may trust me."

Sam frowned, taken aback. "How do you know about Kunind?"

"The Accepted see much." Another patient gesture to the door. "Come this way, Captain Carter."

"I won't be hurt? My friends won't be hurt?"

"I can promise nothing on that count." Demtru folded his hands, still meeting her eyes, and Sam wondered if she was imagining the tinge of sadness in his voice. "The Accepted have no wish to harm any of you."

Sam hesitated for another long moment, then dropped her gaze and sighed. Demetru opened the heavy door with a touch of his hand and Sam followed him through it. The room beyond was small, chilly, and smelled faintly of antiseptic. A small podium in front of the door displayed an array of lights that meant nothing to Sam. Demetru was all business now. He walked to the podium and placed his hand on a silver panel, causing the lights to shift into a new pattern.

"The test must be taken here, at the heart of the Hall, where the source of our power rests." He touched one light, then another, and Sam heard a hiss as a large section of floor folded back, and a block like an altar rose out of the empty space.

Sam stared. On the smooth stone of the altar lay the frail body of a young girl in a thin shift. She lay on her side with her knees pulled in, so that she took up a pathetically tiny amount of the surface on which she lay. In one speechless moment, Sam took in the tremors that shook the little body, the gasp of a labored breath, the bones so fragile that they seemed hardly able to bear the strain of the colorless skin stretched taut across them. Most horrible of all was the face, the tortured eyes, the trembling mouth, fixed in a silent wail of pain.

"What--?" Sam's heart was pounding in her chest. She stared from the child on the stone to the little hooded man beside her, who was regarding the child with equanimity. "What is--?" She found she couldn't speak with her suddenly dry mouth, so instead she stepped around Demetru and strode to the stone, reaching out a hand.

"You cannot touch the Sufferer." Demetru spoke at almost the same instant that Sam felt the shock of pain in her hand and saw the dome of energy around stone and child dimly illuminated for a moment before it faded into invisibility again.

"Why is she here? What have you done to her?" shouted Sam, finding her voice at last. She circled the stone, wide-eyed. She could see tubes and cords that fed from the stone and into the child's back through ragged holes in the shift.

"She is the Sufferer," Demetru replied blandly. "She is the source of our power. Her suffering affords the city its many comforts and necessities. Shall we begin the test?"

"What are you talking about? How could a child's suffering be a source of power?" Sam was still circling the stone, hand out as if she expected to find a gap in the energy field that would allow her to reach through and touch the small face.

"It is the first law of our world's magic." Demetru stepped from behind the podium and approached the stone, hands folded. "One must suffer that all the rest may thrive. You have seen our city, the lives of its citizens. It is a place filled with health and learning, industry and happiness. It flourishes because of this sacrifice." He indicated the child on the stone.

_My God, it_ is_ an altar_, thought Sam. She finally stopped pacing and stood staring, horrified, at the Sufferer. Some mad ritual left over from the goa'uld's reign or some superstition birthed from a half-understood fresco in the chamber of histories had doomed this poor child to an existence of pain because somehow the Accepted believed that her pain powered the lights, the devices they used to heal, the machines mining the naquadah that was the real reason the city flourished. Sam reached out her hand again without thinking and then snatched it back when the field shocked her again.

"She can't live forever like this," Sam tried to sound calm, intelligent. She had to convince them somehow that this was ridiculous and appalling. "What will happen when she dies?"

"She will live for a long while, yet. The altar will keep her alive. But when she does die, a new Sufferer will be chosen." Demetru's glib reply was almost as horrible as the misery etched on the Sufferer's face. "It makes no difference who lies on the altar. All that is required is the suffering of one for the benefit of the many. The test, Captain Carter?"

"How does choosing a replacement work?" Sam couldn't help the edge of bitterness that crept into her voice. "Do you just pick someone at random or do you hold some kind of lottery?"

Demetru raised an eyebrow at her tone, but replied equably, "A child will be selected from among those newly born. It is believed to be kinder than choosing someone who has already experienced comfort and happiness. A Sufferer knows no other life, and perhaps suffers a little less for that." He turned to Sam, eyes quiet, and said, "Shall we begin the test now, Captain Carter?"

Sam blinked and felt tears run warm down her cheeks. The chill air of the room dried them almost at once and she thought how cold the trembling form on the altar must be. She knelt as close as she dared to the perimeter of the field and looked into the white, twisted face. Her mind burned with a thousand ways to free this poor creature, all of them unworkable. No weapons, no tools, no strength to convince the calm, collected little man beside her that this was insane, inhuman, impossible. _'Some of the things experienced during the test are unsettling, and perhaps some are not prepared in their mind for what they encounter.'_ Who could be prepared for _this?_ The girl opened her eyes, and for moment Sam glimpsed in them a pain so profound, so pitiful and terrifying, that it took her breath away.

"Let me take her place."

She had hardly spoken above a whisper, but she knew Demetru had heard her because he frowned, the first real expression Sam had seen on his face.

"I don't understand."

"Let me be the Sufferer. Take this child and give her to my friends, tell them I've chosen to stay in her place." The Colonel would go critical when the function of the Sufferer was explained to him, but Teal'c and Daniel would convince him to leave with the child. Janet would do whatever she could for the ex-Sufferer, and SG-1 would come back with reinforcements for Sam. The Colonel would blow the Hall apart if he had to. She just hoped it wouldn't take too long. She didn't know how much pain the wires in the Sufferer's spine were inflicting, but she was sure she didn't want to experience it for any longer than she had to. But she did have to.

Demetru shook his head. "But Captain Carter, the Sufferer knows no other life than this; the shock of suddenly finding herself free of pain might be enough to kill her."

_Why should you care if she dies? _Sam bit back the reproach, and simply met his eyes with her own, letting her resolve show in her face. _If it kills her, then at least she'll know what it's like to exist in the absence of pain, if only for a minute._

Demetru looked into her face, eyes wide. "You have already lived a life of many good things, Captain. Your suffering would be the more severe for that, surely."

"Maybe that'll up your wattage," Sam heard herself say, choking on more tears.

"But the test--"

"Damn the test. Let me take her place." She took a shuddering breath and looked into Demetru's eyes, willing her fury and terror to the back of her mind. "Please."

Demetru considered her for what felt like forever, and then his mouth turned up in a small, infinitely sad smile. He nodded, put out his hand, and touched the energy field. The field lit brilliant white for a moment, then was gone, and where the altar and the Sufferer had been, there was only empty floor.

Sam blinked, looked at Demetru, looked at where the altar should be, opened her mouth to ask one of the hundred questions on her tongue, but Demetru held up a hand.

"Captain Carter. You have passed the test and been Accepted into the Hall." He gave her a little bow.

"That was the--but the child--"

"An illusion, my dear Captain. Shown to every citizen in his fifteenth year. It is called, among the Accepted, the Choice of Three. Those who choose as you have done are permitted to put on the gray and learn the use and understanding of our technology."

"But…" Sam took a steadying breath and wiped her nose shamelessly on her jacket sleeve, too preoccupied to be embarrassed. "But all the people in the city…"

"Choose to accept the sacrifice of the Sufferer. They are given a series of questions and tasks to answer and complete. When they have finished, they are informed that they have failed the test and are sent back to the city. It is an ancient rite, begun by the first Accepted when they succeeded in driving out the gods and freeing the people of this planet from slavery." He smiled again, and it was almost a happy smile, this time. "Now we live bountifully in the tunnels that were once a prison and a grave for our ancestors. And to prevent any such slavery from ever being perpetuated on this world again, we hide our technology behind a screen of magic and the Choice of Three."

_No wonder the Accepted always look unhappy,_ Sam thought. _They know they're the only decent people on the planet._ Sam shook her head, reeling, as all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Her relief at finding that there was no Sufferer, had never been a Sufferer, warred with anger at the realization that all those brightly-robed people--Menandi, who took such joy in new information; laughing, jovial Bodhus--had chosen to live their lives at the cost of someone else's. Had been prepared in their minds, as Menandi said, to allow a nameless innocent to suffer so that they could live comfortably.

"The exiles!" Sam exclaimed, rising to her feet as the final piece fell into place. "The people who take the wandering sorrow."

"They choose to walk away," nodded Demetru. "They cannot quite countenance a life lived at such a price, yet they cannot bring themselves to offer their own lives for the Sufferer's either. So they live such a life as they can scratch from the frozen surface of this world and suffer, they think, less than they would if they were to offer themselves for the altar."

Sam looked at her own boots, all anger forgotten. She had offered herself knowing that her team would come for her, that the pain would end. Demetru had offered himself believing that his suffering would last the rest of his life. She felt almost humiliated standing next to him in that empty room.

"I'm sorry." She didn't realize that she had spoken aloud until she realized that Demetru was looking up at her, politely confused. She cleared her throat. "I shouted at you." _And I may have passed your test under false pretenses,_ she thought.

"Oh, there is no need to apologize. I probably deserved it." It was Sam's turn to look confused. Demetru sniffed. "I cast my vote against allowing you to be tested. Hariteia insisted that it was the best way, that you would understand our need for secrecy if you passed the test, that it was better to test you than to allow you to speak to the exiles and draw your conclusions from incomplete information. I believed you would all fail as so many have done." He gave her another little bow. "I am pleased to be proven wrong. At any rate," another smile, faintly amused, "you did not shout at me nearly so much as Colonel O'Neill did when I administered the test to him."

"The Colonel. Where is he? Have Daniel and Teal'c been tested, already?" Sam looked around the room as if she expected to see them standing in a corner.

"They have. They all passed, as I think you know." Demetru paced to the wall opposite the door and held out his hand, almost touching it, then paused. He turned to look up at Sam and said, "You understand, Captain Carter, why we cannot, as your Colonel puts it, share our toys with your world. The codes of our order and all the efforts we have expended over the past three hundred years to keep our technology out of the hands of those who would misuse it…it would all be for nothing if we allowed our technology to leave our control."

Sam nodded. Demetru pressed his hand to the wall and a section of it resolved into a door that opened. Sam almost stumbled walking through it because the room she entered was so like the one where she had slept and eaten and pried at the light fixture for the past two days that it was almost as if nothing she had experienced since waking up had been real. But one look at the faces of the three men waiting for her assured her that it had been very real, for them as well as for her. The Colonel looked rattled and angry about being rattled. Daniel had his arms wrapped around himself, and the eyes behind his glasses were brimming with heartbreak. Teal'c's frown had a haunted look to it.

"All right, Captain?" the Colonel stopped fidgeting with his sleeve and put his hands in his pockets.

"All right, sir. Ready to go home."

"Amen to that. Demetru, old buddy," the Colonel gave the Accepted a grin so tight that it looked about to snap and hurt somebody. "We'd like to go home. Any chance of that happening?"

"I will have you transported to the chamber of histories. Your weapons and your packs have already been sent there for you."

"That would be _fantastic_," said the Colonel, sarcasm bristling from every word.

"Goodbye, dear Captain." Demetru nodded to Sam, who nodded in return. "Goodbye, to you all. We shall not meet again, I think. But I would have been proud to see you put on the gray."

Teal'c nodded gravely and Daniel said "Goodbye, Demetru. Thank you." The Colonel merely waved his hands impatiently, and then they were standing in an alcove across from the Stargate.

Hariteia was standing between them and the MALP, which had their packs, vests and guns secured to it. As they approached, Daniel stepped forward, one hand outstretched as if he wanted to say something, but she merely nodded at them, her face grave, and turned away. She had already left the cavern by the time they reached the Gate.

"Dial." The Colonel marched to the MALP, and handed Sam the remote as Daniel jogged to the DHD and began dialing. Sam was maneuvering the MALP over to where the rest of her team stood waiting for the wormhole when Menandi's voice made her jump.

"Captain Carter!"

Sam turned, jaw set, and saw the young woman come running toward her, smiling.

"I thought I had missed your departure. I am glad to be wrong." Menandi reached her out of breath and flushed, wearing a delighted grin. "You decided to leave today, after all, I see. Will you be returning soon?"

Sam turned away to watch as the wormhole established with the dramatic cascade that always frightened people when they saw it for the first time. When she turned back, Menandi was still waiting for an answer. Sam flinched at her expectant smile, and looked away. Suddenly it seemed too hard to look at this woman whose conscience allowed her to stand here and smile while her loved ones shivered on the planet's surface and a child who did not exist shivered in a cold white room not far away.

"No, I don't think we'll be back," she finally replied.

Menandi looked disappointed, then alarmed. She stepped closer, looked into Sam's eyes. "You have taken the test. You have the wandering sorrow."

Sam gave a miserable laugh. "Maybe I do." Then she turned her back on Menandi and her smile, the chamber with its frescoes, the mines full of naquadah, Kunind, Bodhus, the damned dome light.

"Captain," the Colonel barked, and Sam jogged up beside him.

Daniel and Teal'c reached the event horizon, stepped through, and were gone. Sam, walking slowly behind the MALP with Colonel O'Neill at her side said "Well, sir, I guess we struck out this mission."

"I don't know, Captain." The Colonel came to a halt alongside her as she waited for the MALP to roll through the Gate. "We may have been through two days of more or less pointless tests and study, culminating in an experience that will probably give us all nightmares for the rest of our lives, and come out the other end with no space guns to show for it…"

Sam cocked an eyebrow at him.

"But on the upside," the Colonel suddenly sounded much less cavalier, "I now know what choice each member of my team would make if given the option to do the right thing and damn the pain…or just walk away."

Sam looked at her boots again, then up at the shimmering blue wall of the event horizon.

"And hey," the Colonel added, as if it had just occurred to him, "Daniel got to look at frescoes!"

Sam stepped through the Gate smiling.

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**Endnote:**If, at some point toward the end of this fic, you began to suspect that I was riffing on an Ursula K. Le Guin story, you get a cookie. I read "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas" several years ago and I've been wanting to write a kind of response to it ever since. I figured that if the show could get away with episodes that were basically "Like that Star Trek episode, only different," then I could do "Like that Le Guin short story, only not completely depressing." (And for the record, I am reliably informed that I am not, in fact, ripping anyone off, but "homaging in the best of Stargate's traditions." So there.)

If you haven't read this disquieting story, and would like to, a PDF file can be found here: http://www-rohan. is one of those stories that breaks all the rules (it has no characters, no dialog, no plot, just a setting and a twist) but is still famous. This is, I think because of two things: One, it happens to be a handy way of explaining the philosophical concept of the scapegoat without having to read William James or Dostevsky. Two, I think it scares people. It scared me, at least, because it made me wonder if I had it in me to make the same choice as Menandi and the citizens of Omelas: to simply convince myself that the whole mad contract was reasonable and worth the price. I think a lot of people are disturbed by the story because it makes them wonder if they, in the same situation, would even walk away.


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